


See Her Smile

by ThexInvisiblexGirl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s03e02 Paper Clip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26909083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThexInvisiblexGirl/pseuds/ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: In the wake of Melissa’s murder, Mulder feels compelled to put his partner back together. Anything to see her smile again.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	See Her Smile

He heard the names while doing his covert (and in hindsight, rather ridiculous) background check on her upon learning she was to be his new partner. He wandered about the Academy, asking around. It wasn't long before the dirt started coming to the surface. A frigid bitch, heart of stone, the Ice Queen of Quantico, to name but a few. He left the Academy elated and victorious that day, believing he had her all figured out. During their first encounter he eyed her carefully, trying to match any of those names with the diminutive woman standing across from him. For the first time in quite some time, he was at a loss. Despite the tough exterior she had struggled to maintain (in defense against his own raging antagonism, no doubt), she was all soft features, bright eyes and a smile that made even him lose his train of thought for a moment.

Three years on, and he was still at a loss. It was hard to reconcile the names with the woman he had come to know better than he'd ever expected. True, she didn't smile often, which was a shame, but that was hardly enough to deem her cold or aloof. Recent events even exacerbated the conundrum. Among other truths that had been revealed to him these past few days, another truth came to light, slightly more personal, but one which would have more impact than any of the others, he supposed.

Dana Scully was as resilient as she was compassionate, as unrelenting as a storm.

Over the years he reasoned that she had acquired those names was because she'd never allowed others to get too close. The times she had let _him_ get too close were few and far between, and he reveled at them because it spoke volumes about how much she'd come to trust him. In the wake of her sister's death, at the hospital by the empty bed, she allowed him to comfort her, but he knew that even that momentary loss of reserve was rare for her. He remembered how upset she was as soon as they learned of Melissa's shooting, and how she managed to contain her emotions by the time they were on their way to see Klemper. She barely shed a tear during that drive, just sat there dejectedly in the passenger seat, sniffing occasionally. Whenever he glanced at her she was staring emptily out the window, most likely screaming inside, but never letting it show.

Honest to God, he didn't know how she did it. The things she had to withstand in such a short time: his drug-induced outbursts forcing her to shoot him down, a hearing resulting in her dismissal, driving him to New Mexico and learning of his death, and to top it all off – Melissa. Any other person would have keeled over by now. Somehow she was still standing, gazing towards the future with this determined glare in her blue eyes. In the past three years he'd felt many things towards his partner, most of these emotions conflicting. Now he could add admiration to that growing list, without a shadow of a doubt. She was simply the strongest woman he'd ever known.

The morning of Melissa's funeral he wasn't surprised when she came to work, remembering what it was like when her father passed away. Back then he was surprised to see her, shocked even; now he'd expected it. He didn't offer to accompany her – he knew she'd refuse. Instead he waited for her to leave before driving there himself, all the while keeping a respectable distance so she would never know he was there. After everything they'd been through, the way she had watched over him following his father's murder, took him in and nurtured him in his time of need, he felt a strong urge to return the favor, but knowing she would never allow it, not outright, he was forced to do it surreptitiously.

It was a sad affair – always the case, with the deceased at the prime of her life. He found himself deeply moved. He and Melissa didn't see eye to eye when they had last met, but in the back of his mind he'd always expected to be given another chance at making a good impression someday. Knowing he wouldn't get his opportunity now saddened him more than he thought possible. There were many people in attendance – he figured Melissa was a much more outgoing person than her sister. Among them all, though, the family was easy to detect. He could see where Scully's tenacity had stemmed, watching her mother. Margaret Scully who already lost her husband, who just about lost Dana (also for his cause), stood upright nonetheless. Her face, which on the surface seemed expressionless, bore every bit of emotion concealed inside if you just looked hard enough. His partner was standing on her one side, another redheaded young man (was that Charlie, the younger brother?) on her other. He knew Bill Jr. wouldn't be able to attend and in a way it was a relief. Seeing another brother losing a younger sister would be a cruel mirror image he was unable to face right now.

He shifted his gaze from Mrs. Scully to her daughter, and was not surprised to find her in the same stance as the woman she was supporting, her face similarly sealed. Scully women were a tough breed. The thought made an involuntary smile break through his gloom. She'd kick his ass for even thinking it, he was sure.

He was adamant on not blaming himself for what happened, but the temptation to do so was second only to his wish to protect Scully from the darkness that had suddenly descended so completely over their lives. If not for his search, her sister may still be alive. Those men who were after them were there because of him, because he had gotten too close. But it was wrong of him to think that. Because somewhere along the way, his search had become _her_ search, their shared journey towards the truth. He knew her – she wouldn't have embarked on the journey unless she was absolutely certain it was the right thing to do. His fault was in that he should probably have better alerted her to the risks, but lord knew he hadn't been expecting the personal cost to be so high.

He arrived early at the office the next day following a sleepless night. His insomnia had actually worsened recently – whenever he closed his eyes the gunshot that ended his father's life echoed in his head, accompanied by images of dark figures, apathetic-looking Cancer Man and X, Krycek's beady eyes blazing with loathing. Strangely enough, he felt safer in his office, protected from his demons. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, mindlessly sifting through the files on his desk without actually reading anything, when the door creaked open and Scully walked in. She halted on the doorway, as if surprised to find him there.

"Good morning," he greeted her; that seemed to make her snap out of it.

"How long have you been down here?" she asked, dropping her stuff in what had unofficially become her side of the office.

"I don't know. What time is it?"

"Ten passed seven."

He was shocked it was so early still. Just as shocking was the fact that she was here so early as well. Usually he didn't expect her to show up before eight, possibly earlier if they had an early meeting scheduled or any other urgent matter to attend to. One look at her made it all clear, though. She looked like a shadow of herself, as if she'd gotten even less sleep than he had. She had recently returned home after spending a few nights at her mother's. She'd mentioned it only in passing, not wishing to elaborate, but the reason behind it was pretty obvious. He couldn't fathom how she could bear going back there at all. Her apartment was, for all intents and purposes, a crime scene. It took ages before stepping in there stopped turning his stomach following her abduction. The thought of spending the night where her sister had been killed gave him chills.

"You couldn't sleep either?"

There was a sharp intake of breath she attempted to hide, and her cheeks were tainted pink as she probably realized she couldn't fool him with feigned stoicism. She shook her head and looked away, suddenly finding the contents of her purse interesting. It upset him that she didn't feel comfortable enough to cry in his presence, but didn't know how to say it in a way that wouldn't put her off even further.

"Maybe we should consider sleeping here for a while. The higher ups will probably frown upon the idea of male and female agents spending the night in such tight quarters, but it will save us the commute," he offered a wry grin. A chuckle escaped her almost despite herself. It even reached her eyes for a hint of a moment. That was a relief; it had been a while since he'd seen her eyes light up like this. He missed it.

"How about some coffee? From the new place across the street?" He was on his feet before she could protest. "My treat," he added, patting his pocket to make sure he had his wallet.

"Sure, thanks," she agreed; she was beginning to look slightly more like herself.

He was almost at the door, but before he could talk himself out of it he crossed the office in two strides, and pressed his lips to the top of her head. He let the soft kiss linger for longer than was probably appropriate, but he didn't care. He wanted desperately to comfort her, and didn't know what else to do. When he pulled away she lifted her stare to his, her eyes filled with unuttered questions. "It's going to be okay," he told her with more assurance than he felt. "Time heals." He didn't wait for her reply, just turned away from her again, meaning to leave.

"I saw you at the funeral yesterday."

He froze with his hand on the doorknob. The quiet words stunned him into silence. He honestly thought he was conspicuous enough. Now he turned to face her, smiling sheepishly as he ran a hand through his hair. "What gave me away?"

She rolled her eyes at him as she leaned against the file cabinet. "It's really not hard to tell you apart in a crowd, Mulder, you're the tallest person I know." Then her expression softened; she seemed almost shy. "Also... I _know_ you. I knew you would be there." She paused, then locked her gaze on his. "Thank you for coming. I appreciate it."

"I'm sorry I didn't... I didn't want to intrude."

She shook her head, dismissing his lame attempt to apologize. "You're good, my mom didn't notice you. You would have been in a world of trouble if she did." He chuckled, knowing she was probably right. Mrs. Scully would never have let him live it down. "I figured you needed some sort of closure... having missed your father's funeral."

"No." It was so much like her, to view things that way; this sort of reasoning didn't occur to him at all. "I just... wanted to be there for you." As embarrassing as it was to admit, it was true. And he could see his words hit home; there was unmistakable moistness in her eyes now. _Please don't cry, Scully_ , he wanted to plead with her, then felt silly because he was also yearning for her to just let it out. If she just allowed herself to break, he was more than willing to pick up the pieces and put her back together, like she had done for him. It was the least he had owed her.

"We'll be alright, won't we?" she asked, her voice cracking only slightly as she looked up at him pleadingly.

"I promise," he replied, catching a stray tear with his thumb against his better judgment. His other hand he wrapped around hers, lacing their fingers together and giving her an encouraging squeeze. Her hand was so warm. It was absolutely beyond him, how anyone could refer to her as ice.

"So how about that coffee?" she asked, not letting the moment linger. Of course she didn't. He nodded and gently let go of her hand, murmuring he'd be right back. Her image still lingered in his mind as he rode the elevator and left the Hoover building, as he waited for his turn at the cafe. The sadness in her eyes was haunting. Those were trying times, but change was coming; it was bound to, because it couldn't possibly get any worse. He'd never considered himself a great optimist, but he was determined to believe _that_ ; for her sake, if nothing else.

He ordered the coffee, extra strong for both of them or they wouldn't make it to lunchtime. He looked thoughtfully at the display of baked goods behind the barista. There was that blueberry muffin, looking fresh and pretty with its purple glazing on top. He caught her eyeing it lustfully the last time they met there, despite her fierce denial. Before he could think better of it, he asked for one to be added to his order.

Anything to see her smile again.


End file.
